*with a bit sorrow feeling of depressed and shocked face*
How do you feel when you break something that you are supposed to take care of it the most? I hate to say this T_T
I love collecting brooches instead of wearing them often because I'm too afraid for breaking or making them dirty. One day, it happened. The only Victorian brooch I have fell down on the floor when I was trying to pin it on my work shirt. I don't know what it is made of, all I know is kind of stone, and it was shattered in pieces when it touched the ground.
There will be no other brooch like this huhuhu T_T
Why was I so sadly reckless T_T
Thinking I still could fix it, I gathered all stickable the pieces and left it in the drawer until I bought a strong adhesive glue.
Thank god it looked like a brooch again, even though there are pieces can't be flawlessly clinged. After all, I'm satisfied with my fixing.
*and then mourning to see the rough cuts*
It may sound too serious, but I saw those pieces are like broken trust. In one time, we had ever done something that let our beloved ones down. We clearly saw the cracks, the scratches, or whatever it was, which are never be united. We could fix it, but would never be the same again.